Dishes
by MamaRaya
Summary: Dramione one-shot. Hermione has a very, very good daydream. UPDATE: ACTUALLY COMPLETE WITH THREE CHAPTERS, AS REQUESTED!
1. Hermione's Dream

**A few hours after Voldemort's Death**

"Look over there" Hermione's whisper was more of a rasp. Whether it was from crying or screaming or yelling spells she couldn't be sure. Ginny's head followed the small shaking hand that pointed towards a far, mostly deserted corner of the Great Hall. From the seat they had found at the old staff table, it was a challenge to look past the teeming mass of injured, celebrating, and mourning people. She could barely see the distinctive head of Draco Malfoy standing stock still, completely isolated. People were moving around him as if he were a piece of furniture, nearly knocking into him occasionally, then jumping away with mild fear. Ginny shrugged, not sure why Hermione was pointing him out.

"He looks…sad, don't you think?" Hermione's voice was softer this time, still holding the hard rasp of a woman who had watched friends die not two hours ago. Ginny nodded. She hadn't quite figured out how to speak after the initial relief of Harry surviving; she still had not allowed the fact of Fred's death to sink into her heart. "I think I saw his parents leave." Hermione frowned, thinking out loud. "Why didn't he?"

"He fought for our side, in the last part." Neville had walked up to them without their noticing. He stood in front of the girls, reaching out to hold one of Ginny's hands without a word and carefully picking the dust and blood from her hair.

He looked at Hermione and she could see the dirt on his face and the requisite grief in his solemnity, but his eyes shone with something she had only ever seen in Harry's eyes after previous battles. Hermione privately thought the glory looked more natural on Neville. "Before his parents left. He switched sides, didn't really tell anyone either. Just started fighting." He shrugged and lowered his voice. "I watched him kill Goyle's father."

The horror of killing a good friend's father sat in the space between the three of them, and Hermione fought the urge to resume the weeping she had been doing off and on all night.

"So, is he alone?" Hermione asked Neville.

Ginny had leaned forward onto his body, her eyes closed as he continued to gently pet her head. It was the most secure she had felt in days. Neville frowned and nodded slowly.

Mostly to herself, Hermione added, "No one here wants him." She looked at Ginny and Neville, and scanned her eyes across the crowd, watching families and couples and friends consoling and congratulating each other in turn. Then there was Draco Malfoy, who had seemed so alone for the last few years, still alone. Bringing her attention back to her company, she nodded to Neville to take her seat and let Ginny rest on him more comfortably. If anyone could get sleep right now they should.

Gathering what tiny grain of courage was still left in her and mostly relying on the total numbness of her body and mind to carry her towards a strange choice, Hermione walked unnoticed across the crowded hall to the man who looked far more like a lost child.

She noticed as she neared him that his eyes were glued to the floor a few feet in front of him. She would have to do her best not to startle him. "Malfoy" she whispered as she drew closer. His head snapped up and his mouth opened, surely in impulse to say something full of prejudice and anger, but nothing came out. "Hey." She acknowledged him again. If smiling hadn't taken a massive effort, she would have given him one. "Look…" she made her voice as gentle as possible, "I swear I'll never tell anyone we talked." He nodded almost imperceptibly. "But…are you okay?" His mouth opened again, his expression even more indignant, but again there was only silence. Hermione was near enough to reach out to him now, and neither one could believe it when she did. Her hand was on his shoulder, soft the way a mother's is, just reminding him that other people existed, and that he did too.

"Neville told me you fought for us." Malfoy blinked. He pressed his lips together, prepared to be defensive but she started to run her hand down his shoulder and arm. "I mean it. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me too." She whispered. "But…thank you." His head fell to his chest as if her words had allowed him to stop pretending quite so hard. Hermione moved her hand to his cheek and lifted his face up. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" He shook his head a tiny amount. "Good." She looked deeply into his eyes, "I'm very glad."

Releasing his face, she walked away painfully aware of how strange that had been, and even more conscious of how important it had been for both of them. She thought that maybe…just maybe if a former Death Eater and the muggle-born friend of Harry Potter could tentatively forgive one another, then the Wizarding World might recover from this war after all.

* * *

 **A few weeks later**

Hermione was exhausted. She had plenty to mourn, and plenty to fix.

As ever, she was worried about Harry. She wasn't sure how he would deal with losing Lupin and Dobby, nevermind the others he would blame himself for.. She knew he would have to wrestle now to determine his real feelings about Dumbledore and Snape. She had a suspicion that she couldn't voice as well: that losing Voldemort would be painful in a way, considering the man had been not only in Harry's head, but also been his obsession for years now.

And then there was Ron. He was lost in a haze of grief for Fred. Any romance they had been building up to had collapsed into her nursing him and his family towards a semblance of mental health and wellbeing. It didn't look probable any time soon. She was worried about all the Weasleys, her second family. Mrs. Weasley in particular, who wasn't leaving her bedroom. The house was a broken heart without her, and a mess besides.

Hermione tried to remember to worry about herself occasionally as well. She worried that her parents' spell would never be broken, though she was hesitant to attempt it when everyone was still in pieces. She worried about Hogwarts and about the future of all the students whose lives and educations were interrupted by the last year, including herself. And the tiny voice that lived somewhere near her temples and gave her headaches told her to worry that now that there was no homework to help with or crucial riddles from Dumbledore to solve her friends wouldn't want her around as much. She blamed this particular anxiety for her recent tendency to forget and lose things.

This is how she found herself washing every dish in the Burrow kitchen the muggle way. Unable to remember the spell and unwilling to do the work she used to relish of looking it up and learning it all over again, she had found soap and a sponge underneath a pile of hand-knitted kitchen towels. The towels were unfortunately next to a box of old toys that, after inspection, were clearly early inventions by Fred and George. Hermione had wasted ten minutes sitting on the kitchen floor weeping before pulling herself up. The soreness of her body in that moment reminded her how herculean simple tasks are when you feel like this; and they all felt like this.

As she scrubbed and rinsed, Hermione stared out of the window and let herself get lost in the strange paradise that was the Burrow's yard. Shining grass and tall weeds mingled with brooms and muggle gadgets, capturing too well the portrait of a family that had deserted itself.

She looked around, unsure as to where they all were, but since no one had come into the kitchen when she was sobbing a few moments ago, she felt assured that she was alone on the first floor. She stopped scrubbing the enormous, strange, rose-shaped bowl in her hands, but did not drop it. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and whispered the spell she had learned to help her pass the painful days of last year in a tent with Harry. Then she let herself float to somewhere else. _Anywhere else._

* * *

 _Hermione found herself in her old room. The Gryffindor girls' dorm was as comfortable as ever. Here, for some reason, Hermione could block out everything reality was throwing at them. There was the warm, subtle lighting of dusk coming in through the window, and the scarlet curtains moved a little from a breeze after she pushed the panes of glass open. She could smell the fresh…was that fall? Yes. Fall air that was dry and just a little chilly. Oh good. She loved Autumn. Autumn meant school and books and friends. Friends. Why was she alone right now? She could use a friend with her here._

Hermione panicked, finding she couldn't bring her friends into her daydream without tinting it with the grief and devastation that she was trying to escape from-however briefly.

 _Okay. No friends. I can have a whole fantasy by myself. She decided to wander the castle, and did so, at the lightning speed of her brain. There were the magical staircases_.

She tried to imagine the feeling of them as they flew through the air, the rush she got in her stomach, and the spell obliged what she couldn't manufacture alone.

 _She finally found herself in the Great Hall, and was thrilled to find it set for a regular school day dinner. With relief, she saw it was about half full of students she didn't recognize; nothing to recognize, no need to try to remember if they were alive or not. She thought about sitting and eating, but didn't want to waste her time there. She thought about the library, but the best things about a library weren't transferable to a daydream, however vivid her imagination or the little bit of magic that she could imbue to make it stronger. Instead, she turned a sharp left into the Hall._

 _Oh. There he was._ Why him…?

 _This time, Draco Malfoy stood upright, his expression assured and cocky as usual. He was leaning against the wall and looking at the crowd of students that apparently couldn't see him. Without turning to acknowledge that she had entered his corner alcove, he spoke first. "They don't know. See?" Hermione didn't know what he was talking about. She looked at the crowd again. Draco stood away from the wall and looked at her, his eyelids heavy, his eyes intense. "They don't know about the war." He tilted his head towards the Slytherin table. "They're all normal. No fucked-up parents, no abuse. They don't even have to learn that there's no difference between you and me."_

Hermione was surprised by his words for a moment- before she reminded herself that she was creating this. She forced herself to remember that it wasn't real, but dived back into it, her fingers growing pruned from the still significant pile of dishes.

 _As she brought herself back to her mind, she found herself no longer in the Great Hall. She was in the library after all. She nearly laughed at herself for being so predictable. Focusing on her memory, she could almost smell the old parchment. She adjusted to the dark and quiet space. But where…? Oh, there he was. She found him in one of the old armchairs that were almost always filled with students. She had never preferred them, finding them poor places to get any real studying done, but of course he would make himself as comfortable as possible. Finding herself wanting to talk to him more, she went around the chair, setting herself on the table across from him. She wiggled around and swung her legs, enjoying the feeling of sitting up on a table, something she would never do in real life at a library, but this was just for her. This thought reminded her that she had control of the conversation._

 _"Do you they know about you, Malfoy?" He looked up from his nondescript book and finally noticed her sitting directly in front of him, her head tilted, her hair falling to one side. "Do they know that you overcame all of that to become good?"_

 _"They don't need to." He said, expressionless. "They know about you." Hermione blushed. Could you blush in a dream?_

 _He stood, setting his book aside, and walked over to her, close enough now to put his hand on her knee, though he didn't. Despite herself, his sudden proximity made her breath catch. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"_

Hermione blinked and looked down at the strangely-shaped mug in her hands, realizing she had been washing it for quite awhile. She wasn't making him do this, she thought, though she remained unconvinced. She thought maybe she should stop and focus...

 _Malfoy's smirk shocked Hermione. She didn't do that…did she? "It's not just you in here, Granger."_

Hermione dropped the mug. The ceramic shattered into large chunks and shards in the sink.

 _"What are you talking about?"_

 _"I like this spell." He put his hands in his robe pockets as if to begin a long explanation that would require him to pace around the room, but his feet stayed in place. "Because it's new magic. Everyone thinks only old magic is powerful, but people have created new spells with intricacies and possibilities that ancient wizards didn't think possible." Hermione really didn't like being lectured at by any man her own age, but especially Malfoy; she resented the fact that she actually had no idea what he was talking about. Which also meant… "I'm not reading your mind, Hermione. And you're not reading mine. We're just…in the same place."_

 _"But how did we both get here, at the same time? With no one else around?"_

 _She thought it might be a trick of the light but, yes, Malfoy did smile for a moment. "First, we cast the spell around the same time. I don't know about you, but I'm biding my time between watching my friends and their parents on trial." She reached out, and found that she could briefly hold his arm, sending her apologies for his situation silently. "Second, we chose the same basic place. Hogwarts." He looked around them. "Sort of surprising, after all that happened, that we would have the same choice, but there it is. Did you feel…safe here?"_

 _Hermione had released his arm. She took her time with his question, then gave a sigh that was almost a laugh. "Safe? No. I wouldn't say that. I felt…full. Fulfilled. Really myself…" She allowed herself a happy moment of nostalgia. "Is this where you felt safe, Malfoy?"_

 _There it was again. That blink-and-you-miss-it smile. And the smallest nod in the world. "Finally, I think you will notice that you are in control of some things and I am of other things. I don't quite understand this part of the spell, but I know that you found me in the Great Hall, but I was already there, and created the students." Hermione nodded. "Then I was suddenly in the Library. I didn't choose to be here and you weren't here either, at first. So you must have brought me here."_

 _"Which is why you weren't surprised to see me."_

 _"Right."_

 _"So…what happens next? Are you in control?"_

 _Malfoy's smirk was famous. She had seen it for years, watched it be the precursor to slurs against her and horrible things said against her friends. She had never, ever seen it used for good. But then Malfoy put one hand on either side of her knees and leaned into her, smirking all the way. She couldn't think or breathe and she wasn't sure now of what was real or not. "I can be…" his voice was deeper and harder now, "if you like."_

 _Hermione thought her insides might be mush. She reminded herself that it was a dream, that no one would know, that it was a strange reaction to a spell she obviously wouldn't use again, that it was her secret._

 _The shiver in her spine made her nod her head and that was all he needed. He brought one hand up to her chin to lift her face up to his. Then he wrapped that arm around her waist and pulled her smoothly off of the table, so that she stood against him. She could feel his body, the sharp angles of the muscles underneath his fitted robes, his strong legs, his slender hips. Keeping her chin up because that was where he had placed it, she learned everything she could about his body without looking down or using her hands. Her eyes found his and found them to be the deep grey of the frozen lake or the beautiful gray clouds in sunsets that got drowned out by the brighter pinks and oranges. Uninhibited, her hands found his hair, and it was as baby-soft as she expected it to be. As she ran her hands through it and pulled gently, he let out a small groan. She ran her hands down to his neck, and on impulse ran them down to follow the bone of his clavicle and press her hand on the hard expanse of chest._

 _He had apparently waited for her to finish her exploration, because as soon as her hands were stilled on his chest, he took his turn. He took one finger and ran it down her cheek, then over to her lips, where he let it linger. She was surprised that he didn't do…more with his hands, but then his arms were around her waist again, his fingers pressing almost painfully into her back, which just made her feel a warmth across her cheeks. He didn't take his eyes from hers as he pressed his body closer, and she could feel a certain hardness she hadn't noticed before. Forced by the closeness to move her hands, she put them around his neck. Then, be it magical or through sheer force of imagination, or maybe it wasn't her decision at all, she willed him to kiss her._

 _He did. His lips were tentative for a split second, but she pressed against them, pulling on his neck to bring him down to her. His hands pressed into her hips as he lightly bit her bottom lip, a silent plea for her lips to open. They kissed like this until she carefully slid her tongue into his mouth and found him warm and sweet. He smiled (or smirked? She couldn't tell when his mouth was on hers) and then took command and kissed her with a depth and ferocity that she didn't know he had. She felt dizzy; she felt like she might be on fire; she felt that if he stopped holding her up she would fall and never get up._

 _When his lips fell to her neck, biting and kissing, he moaned again, quiet and dark. Hermione pressed her hips into Malfoy, wanting that hardness against her own warmth that suddenly felt empty. She needed friction. She needed him to never stop doing that, except that she also needed his lips on hers again. She ran her fingernails down his back and he shivered. She smiled (or smirked? Could you learn that by touch?) at his reaction to her. As he pulled his lips away from her neck he used his thumbs to press on the vulnerable space underneath her hip bones and her moan eclipsed his. It was definitely a smirk he gave before running his hands down her back and bum and finally kissing her again, deeply. And then he was gone._

 _Hermione was left, clothes rumpled, usually wild hair even more mussed, and quite unsatisfied, in an empty library that lived only in her mind._

Hermione finished the dishes and made dinner. She brought the soup and sandwiches to the people she knew would eat it, and brought half-servings to those who wouldn't. Harry, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley made it to the table that night, and that was pretty good nowadays. Hermione tried very hard not to think back to her interesting afternoon or get irritated at its ending. She reminded herself that the daydream had been just that and had to be a brief and temporary respite. She needed to be here, for her friends, for herself. There was so much healing to be done.

Scandalous (as it would be) and arousing (as it already was) fantasies would have to wait. Hermione wasn't even sure that dream-Malfoy was telling the truth. It sounded exactly like the kind of thing her mind would make up to give her an excuse to…do things she usually wouldn't.

The owl pecking at the window made Hermione shake her head and return to reality.

* * *

 _Granger,_

 _Let me make it up to you. Same time tomorrow. You choose where._

 _-DM_

* * *

 **A/N: Just a fun one-shot that popped in my head. Hope you liked it. I'd love a review! :)**

 **UPDATE: Originally this was a fun one-shot, but folks told me they wanted more and I'm easy to persuade. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Draco's Dream

**A/N: Okay, this was supposed to be a one-shot and then y'all let me know that it was a bit abrupt and the idea could use more playing out. Apparently, I'm easily swayed by reviews. Who knew! There will be one more chapter in this story, and I think that will give us all closure. So please keep reviewing, and if you like my style check out Bad Ideas, because it's my baby right now.**

 ** _Heads up: I hate when my favorite characters don't read like themselves. But this bit is really from Draco's POV and I don't think Draco sees the anxious, neurotic side of Hermione. I tried to write how I think he sees her._**

* * *

 **Three Months after the Battle of Hogwarts**

Draco Malfoy had been dreading the day the Ministry would come to destroy Malfoy Manor. They were due to arrive at 9 sharp, so the letter from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had detailed. They were to take anything that appeared dangerous or important to the persecution of current or former Death Eaters. That morning he had eaten breakfast in the Grand Dining Room, which he had never done before because it was, in fact, improper to do so for such a casual meal. Still, he had wanted the opportunity to take notice of the ancient decor, and to briefly treasure the air of dignity his home had clung to despite it's dark purposes over the last year.

Draco wasn't stupid; he knew that they would take, or break, anything they liked. The Aurors they would send would all have fought for or quietly sided with the Order of the Phoenix, and the last few months hadn't healed many wounds. He took a stroll around the house, biding it a bittersweet farewell.

It had never felt like his home. Perhaps it had felt like his father's, but he doubted it. Malfoy Manor was much like the family itself; you didn't live there, you were simply a part of it. There was hardly any room in a dynasty for individuality or empathy. For the first fifteen years of his life, Draco had been perfectly content with this lifestyle. From birth, he had no doubt as to what he deserved, what was right and wrong, and how to behave in every circumstance. So many of the questions that he now struggled with on a daily basis used to have simple answers.

His father's disciplining system may not have been Draco's choice, but he had known that it was what was done in the family. Why question it when his father shared the same scars? Thus, when his father had requested an additional scar, the one he still wore on his left arm, how was he supposed to know that "no" was even a viable answer?

Draco strolled around the Manor staring at the dark artifacts that were also family heirlooms. He supposed everyone became an adult when they learned a very hard truth and this was his: there was no purity or integrity here. Not in this house, not in this family, not in him.

It was around the second library that Draco found he could not stare at his ancestor's emotional baggage any longer and retired to his room. The admittedly palatial and luxurious bedroom was no different. He saw the childhood toys that looked more like statuettes and priceless antiques than something a three-year-old would enjoy holding. His precious Slytherin banner, which he had waved at any match he wasn't playing in, had not been allowed on the walls, and so he pulled it out of a drawer to for nostalgia's sake.

When the Ministry officials arrived, Malfoy was ready for them. The idiot Auror who knocked on the door asked for the mistress or master of the house, then quickly realized the 17-year-old was the only member of his family still in Britain. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes and opened the door.

He really had thought he was done resenting his father; really, he had. Yet here he was, sitting in the stiff leather arm chair in his bedroom listening to Aurors take apart everything he called home. What got under his skin was the way they were doing it. If they "accidentally" broke a four-hundred-year-old plate or a tea set, it didn't seem to bother them at all. It shouldn't have been Draco's job to stop this. No one had taught him how to be the man of the house. Draco knew without a doubt that if his father, not the shell of an acolyte that he had become but his full, confident, fierce father had been there, that he would have stopped the senseless destruction. Draco couldn't bring himself to do anything. _Fuck the dishes._ Besides, he had somewhere to be in a few minutes, so he sat back in the chair and relaxed.

* * *

 **A Few Minutes Later**

 _Draco had only known to go to Hogwarts, so when he found himself in the Slytherin common room, he was surprised. Looking around, he had to chuckle when he realized it was certainly a dark, green-tinted room, but not the one he had lived in for six years. She had tried though. Going over the details in his memory, he solved the problem, then inwardly smiled and sat on one of the lush, jade-colored velvet chaises scattered across the room. She had chosen the place, so where was she?_

 _He stared out at the lake from the bay windows that lined much of the room. The water lapped against the lower half of them, magic keeping the glass clean and clear despite the murky water. The sky above it was a cool gray mixed with pale pinks and white, streamlined clouds. It certainly wasn't a Scottish sunset, but it was scintillating against the dark aqua of the lake. He could feel the calmness slowing down his heart rate. He hadn't even realized how agitated he had been all morning until he wasn't anymore. He let his eyes drift shut._

 _"Hey you" came a soft, female voice. "You look very handsome all asleep like that, but you're going to waste our time."_

 _Draco squinted his eyes against the light, hoping and knowing he would see what he wanted to see. He held back a happy sigh. Hermione (goddamn) Granger, squeezed into the little leftover space in front of him on the chaise, her legs tucked under her, sitting on her heels. His eyes opened all the way when he saw that she was wearing a large dark gray t-shirt…and not much else. This was why he had started adding the "goddamn" to her name whenever he thought of her. This was why he thought of her more often then he liked to admit._

 _Her hair was down and had grown long since May, how had he not noticed that before now? Her brown skin glowed as though she had finally made it outside. Everything about her looked…good. It was a dramatic comparison to the things he had seen at his home that morning. Draco wanted to lay her over him like a blanket, so he did._ _All he had to do was reach out his arms to her and slip them around her ribs and gently pull and she crawled the rest of the way, her dark legs stretching out behind her, her curves pressing into him as she made her way to his face. When her body was lined up as closely as possible to his (with their height difference her feet landed somewhere along his calves) he finally spoke. "Hello."_

 _Her smile had roots in an innocence that he couldn't believe she had maintained after everything she had seen and been through, yet here it was, stretching across her lips at him. She reached up and pulled his slightly-too long bangs out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. He needed a mother, really, but that was neither here nor there. "I'm so glad you're awake." She replied._

 _He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" Draco woke up just a little bit more._

 _She breathed a laugh and it gave him goosebumps. "Definitely." Then she pulled him in- God he loved it when she did that- and pressed her full pink lips onto his thin ones. She pressed mildly, without nervousness or urgency or passion, and simultaneously applied the same pressure with her entire body. He could feel her everywhere, and the weight of her made him feel both safe and turned on. Draco let out a quiet moan._

 _After a few more minutes of this very pleasant greeting, Hermione sighed contentedly and laid her head on his chest. He reached up to play with her inane curls. "Granger."_

 _"Mm?"_

 _"Why are we here?"_

 _Hermione raised her head and looked at him sideways. "I wanted to see what it looked like. I read about it, obviously, but could never understand how it would be a pleasant place to be."_

 _"But you got it wrong."_

 _She grinned guiltily and bit her lower lip. His lower extremities noticed. "I knew you would fix it."_

 _Draco rolled his eyes to make a point._

 _Hermione put her head back down on his chest. "It is quite lovely, actually." Draco chuckled and she felt his chest move. "Though very dark."_

 _A second later she popped her head up again, this time joined by her upper body. "Aghhhh" The shift in weight as both of her hands pressed onto his chest surprised him._

 _"I changed my mind!" Draco looked closely at Hermione's eyes. Her sudden excitement had lit them up. Their rich brown reminded him of bare trees in winter, the deep gold ring around them making them shine. "We're going outside. To the lake!"_

 _She struggled to get off of him and he sat up straight, still on the couch and a little groggy. Once she was standing she held out her hand to grab his but he stopped her. "Granger! You're not wearing any clothes." Draco was sure that he was making a mistake in letting her leave their comfortable, pants-optional couch. Ignoring her hand, he grabbed her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She didn't fight the movement._

 _Straddling him, Hermione wiggled her hips. She made it look as though she was just getting comfortable, but he suspected she knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, three months of…daydreams…gave him fairly solid evidence. He was clenching nearly everything, resisting what his body really, really wanted to do. "Granger…" he growled. To his astonishment, she whined softly in response, grinding into him harder. He pulled her closer, sitting up from the couch and holding onto her back. Leaning in, the dark, deep tone his voice took on in moments like these asked "Is this me, controlling this? I thought today you were…"_

 _Without moving her head, Hermione answered. "Malfoy. Really, does it matter?"_

 _He groaned again, then bit her earlobe, because it was there. Her shocked squeak made him smirk and he continued to bite his way down her neck and to her collarbone. His bites got harder every time she made a sound, either of pleasure, or surprise, or even light pain. When he stopped, she took a deep breath. "Malfoy…"_

 _He grinned, and didn't say what he was thinking:_ I wish I could leave a mark on you _. Instead, as he neared her lips, he teased her. "You said something about going outside?"_

 _Draco blinked and found himself on a soft quilt laid on the grass near the lake. The sky was still in its slow gray sunset, fading gently into the warm air. But Hermione was not next to him. The blunt change from being seconds away from the deep kiss he craved to being alone shook him._

 _He looked around, vaguely concerned. They could both do this, though neither had figured out exactly how. The spell had a strange set of rules they were still learning. A few weeks ago, they realized they could sort of encourage or influence each other's choices, but if both of them just happened to imagine the same thing, it doubled in intensity. Hermione had imagined a beautiful sky for them tonight, but if he had also thought to create a sunset, it would have been brilliant. When they were...together, it happened more naturally._

 _So sure, she had moved him outside and left herself inside. Or gone somewhere else entirely. Draco laid back on the quilt, resting on his arms, and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze and the warmth. He could take control and go where he pleased, but today was hers. He had promised her total control…though neither of them fully believed him. He almost smiled at the thought. A different girl would have believed him. A different girl may not have demanded they rotate having control, to keep things sane rather than have them fighting to construct fantasies that didn't overlap. A different girl wouldn't have done research on the supposedly simple spell that was everything he lived for in the dreary life in which he was stuck. A different girl wouldn't have been the only person to make sure he was alright that day in the Great Hall._

 _Malfoy could barely remember the Hermione Granger he had known in school. Not only had they each been drastically changed by the war, but now that he knew her- even this daydream version of her- he desperately tried not to remember how they had treated one another back then. No, he preferred to live in the daydreams they constructed._

 _"You're somewhere else today." Malfoy opened his eyes to see the small, dark girl standing over him. Still. Not. Wearing. Pants. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped before he could stop it. She laughed, her head falling back, carefree._

 _He reached up and pulled her down to him, making her laugh more. "You are terrible." His growl returned._

 _She laid on her side, her legs tucked under her and her left arm on his stomach, she looked up at him, faking innocence. "I think you mean amazing." She smiled, and he thought it could have lit up any dark common room._

 _"Miss Granger, it is not proper for you to be out on Hogwarts grounds without trousers or a school robe." She tsk'd, slapping the top of her own hand, then lay down next to him, giggling all the way._

 _Draco propped himself up so that he was hovering over her. He saw her breath catch, her pupils widen, her laughter gradually cease, her lips return to the small grin she got whenever she thought he was going to kiss her. He made his own breath heavy-which wasn't difficult, with her underneath him- and he felt his own eyelids grow heavy with the burden of staring at her and not touching her. Lowering himself, he brought his face just an inch above hers. He prepared to kiss her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. But instead, he whispered, "I'm going to have to take points away for that." Her eyes popped open and there, again, miraculously, was the laughter. His kiss interrupted it._

 _Draco let his body cover hers just as she had done to him. Balancing some of his weight on one of his knees dropped to the left of her so that he wouldn't crush her, he laid himself down so that he could feel every part of her again. He had no idea how long it had been since he had felt her like this in the common room, but it had been too long. Her body pressed up against his in eager response._

 _Their kiss took its time getting to the place that he knew it would. They could kiss in a hundred ways, he had discovered, but eventually they always reached the point where he couldn't figure out whose lips belonged to whom, or when they had last taken a break to catch their breath. The kind of kiss that spread freckles of flame across his skin and made him realize that food was a waste and his mouth was actually made for this._

 _He could feel her wanting him. Underneath the shirt, her nipples had grown hard, and being able to feel them through both of their clothes was driving him wild. Separating her legs with one knee, he brought it to her and found the heat he had expected. Pushing his knee hard into that warmth, he received the moan that had been his goal._

 _He couldn't hold himself up much longer. Still kissing her with everything he had, he rolled them over. Her ability to let out a squeak of surprise that was also a moan all without leaving his lips impressed the hell out of him. Now he had her where he wanted her. She was straddled over him just as they had been inside. Only now, the part of her hovering over him where it matters was warm and damp. He couldn't resist a smirk against her mouth. He considered taking their clothes off, but he quite liked her how she was and instead slipped his own cool hands underneath her soft shirt, feeling all of her curves he tweaked and twisted and smoothed as she ground against him._

 _Draco realized that he wasn't controlling the magical dream at all when he pulled his lips away to take off his own shirt. She ran her nails down his chest, doing her own tweaking and twisting and smoothing and making him absolutely desperate for her. "Malfoy…" her moan was the least of his problems as her hands moved to the back of his neck and she ran her fingernails through his hair. "Take us back inside."_

 _He kissed her as hard as he could, then pulled away, leaving her wanting and breathy. "You're in control, remember?"_

* * *

Draco had no idea how long it had been, but he didn't care. He came back to the reality of a ransacked and empty Manor, an exiled family, and friends who were dead, prisoners, or in situations similar to his and just as desperate. He called for a house elf before remembering that he had freed the few that hadn't chosen to join his parents in their life-long house arrest on a cold island.

So he stood, packed anything that he cared about, and walked around Malfoy Manor one last time. _It will make a great haunted house one day,_ he thought, _haunted by a family who made the wrong choices until it was too late._ When he left, he tried very hard to convince himself that he wouldn't miss it.

* * *

 **Eek! Please let me know what you think and I'll have the last installment up soon. :)**


	3. Reality

**A/N: Thank you so so so much to all the reviewers, and especially to those who asked for more. Y'all were right, there was a whole little story here.**

* * *

 **Seven Months After the Battle of Hogwarts**

Draco had grown used to the mediocre dinners at the Leaky Cauldron after the second week. By the end of the third, he had bribed Tom to have one of the kitchen elves bring it up to his room so he didn't have to eat at the bar every night. That had improved the food immensely. He didn't mind that the food was sometimes cold and required a warming charm, or that often it was the same dinner two nights in a row, but a line had to be drawn somewhere. That line was the obviously unwashed glass his pumpkin juice had arrived in. A trip down to the bar was necessary.

* * *

Neville had convinced them to go out, even though he had been to the Leaky Cauldron three times already this week, and his reason was fairly transparent. The friends he brought with him were more excuses than companions. After an hour or so, he always ended up moving them from a table to the bar and flirting awkwardly with Hannah Abbott. Hermione thought it was sweet, but Ginny found it obnoxious. It was usually only the two of them that joined him anyway. Harry, still paranoid about press, stayed close to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Ron had come a few times, but he always ended up drunk and sad, and it didn't matter which came first, that didn't make for a nice evening.

Ginny had been the first Weasley to really wake up from her grief. Even by her own admission, she wasn't sure why. Hermione had a private theory that Ginny, due primarily to her experiences in her first year at school, had a strange relationship with death. She had never feared it the way a person should. The only other person Hermione knew to have such an intimate, reckless relationship with death was Harry. Hermione thought it might be one of the things that had brought the two of them together.

So, the three Gryffindors sat at one corner of the U-shaped bar on this Thursday night. Neville was ineffectively hiding the blush that appeared every time business was slow and Hannah moved to hang out near them. The four of them chatted and joked and reminisced about the Triwizard Tournament (avoiding much mention of Cedric), and the early days of the D.A. (avoiding much mention of any of their dead friends.)

Ginny was vividly describing the enormous gambling ring the twins had run during the tournament. She even managed to get through saying Fred's name a few times without hesitating, and her audience did their best not to flinch or reach out in comfort. She was in the middle of a particularly exciting detail, something about Seamus Finnegan and a spell that made fake coins explode when a *CRASH* was heard. Everyone looked up and over to the other side of the bar. A few customers raised their wands. Then the sound duplicated itself, and half of a glass of goblin wine was suddenly on Ginny's shoes.

Hermione and Draco were the only two people not concerned with the broken dishes of which each of them had been the cause. Their eyes were locked over the bar, and instead of the usual thrill that went up her spine when they made eye (or really any kind of) contact, she felt stuck. For the first time in a long time, she was faced with a problem other than grief or trauma, and she had no idea how to solve it.

Draco found himself silently asking her what to do next before he realized that would only work if they were in one of their daydreams, and they were very clearly not and that was the problem.

Physically seeing him now, in real life, all the parts of him that she knew very, _very_ well now tangible, made the fact that they hadn't actually met since the Battle feel all the more strange and painful.

"Hermione!" Ginny's hand was on her shoulder. She had been lightly shaking her for at least a minute. "Are you okay?" Ginny's sweet freckled face was looking at her with levity and concern. "Do you need another drink or is that your way of telling us you've had enough? Do you want to go back home?" Hermione shook her head and inwardly released a breath, grateful that Ginny wasn't mentioning the giant elephant of Draco Malfoy that was now in the room, when Neville did instead.

He leaned in to the two girls, whispering and pointing to the wet floor in front of Draco that Hannah was now headed towards with her wand and a dustpan. "Haven't seen him since Hogwarts." Neville said, and they both knew to what occasion he was referring. "What do you reckon he's been up to then, now his parents are gone and the manor's still being excavated?"

Hermione whipped around to look at Neville, surprised by these things Malfoy hadn't told her, then attempted to cover herself with gossipy interest. "Ooh, I don't know." She added vaguely, reminding herself of Lavender Brown or even Luna.

"What do you think he's doing here?" Ginny asked innocently.

Hannah was back at their end of the bar with an answer. "Oh, he's been staying upstairs for the last few months. Lost his home and all. I didn't want to let him but Tom said he was good for the money and that's all there is to it. He's actually not bad as a guest…" She said sweetly.

Neville leaned in towards her, more confident than usual, "Not surprising, actually. He changed sides, at the end. Fought for us." Hannah looked to Hermione and Ginny for confirmation, which they gave with a smile and an awkward nod, respectively.

Hannah smiled, gave a small, "oh" and looked back at Draco, who was now standing a few steps away from his original spot and looking rather like he didn't know what to do with himself. Hannah hollered to him, "Would you like some pumpkin juice down here, or would you like me to send an elf up with some?"

Draco looked at her, baffled for another second, before he nodded, his aristocratic manner recovered. "Down here would be fine. Make it a butterbeer, though." Draco sat at the stool nearest to him and Hannah nodded and prepared his drink, looking at him softly as she slid the glass across the bar to him. "Apologies for the glass. Please put it on my bill."

She shook her head. "It happens. We all get startled from time to time." She patted the bar once, then turned to help another customer.

Draco counted sixty very slow seconds before he let himself look over at Hermione. Staying here was a bold choice, maybe she was rubbing off on him with all that courage and nerve, but he couldn't help it. She was somehow different here in reality. More vibrant, or something. Like her colors were brighter. He couldn't stop watching her lips as she laughed. When she glanced over at him, giving him her shining, happy, whiskey-brown eyes, he felt as if he'd caught the snitch. He watched as the Weasley girl continued her apparently amusing story and Hermione nodded along, chuckling when it was called for and glancing at him sporadically. Though it was far more obvious for him, silent and alone, he was unable to tear himself away and sat, holding a full glass, staring back.

Hermione had never had any interest in Legilimency. It was one of the few forms of magic that she didn't wholly understand, and the potential uses of it alarmed her, but right at this moment she wanted nothing more than to silently talk to Malfoy. It was too surreal, sitting a few feet away from him. She counted in her head how many steps it would take for her to get off of her stool and walk to him. It was so few _. How were they pretending they didn't see each other, touch each other, at least once a week?! She had read about his parents, but how had he not told her he was staying here! Where she'd been more than a few times in the last few weeks!_ Checking in with herself, she realized she was not paying any attention to Ginny, she was fully freaking out, and she was quite a bit turned on. _Hell_.

"Ahem." Draco cleared his throat more loudly than was necessary and stood up. Hermione watched as he put more currency than was necessary for one pint and a tip onto the bar.

Hannah looked up from the end of the bar where she was talking with another customer and nodded to him. "Need anything else tonight?"

Draco thought this might be the most awkward thing he would ever do.

Hermione watched him and saw only grace and cool carefulness.

"No, Thank you. I'll be in my room, number FIVE, all night." With that, he headed towards the stairs.

Draco walked up the stairs towards his room, telling himself that she was smart, the brightest witch of their age or whatever, and she would get his obvious and not at all uncomfortable (or potentially unsafe) hint.

Hannah walked back to the group of friends and shrugged. "Weird that he said that so loud. I know his room number." She gave a little breathy laugh and Neville bit his lip. "I suppose we're all still recovering in our ways." Hannah's sad smile emanated thoughtfulness and compassion. Hermione grinned at Neville, silently encouraging him in his gentle pursuit of the beautiful girl. "Ah, Tom!" She had caught the eye of the aging proprietor coming out of the back room.

"Alright Hannah, you can take off. I've got it from here." The gruff man looked around the fairly empty bar and gave her a pat on the back.

Hannah started taking off her apron and looked at Neville bashfully. "Erm, Neville?" The boy looked eagerly at her. Hermione thought if she told him the worst news in the world he would be happy just to hear her speak. "I live a few blocks up the Alley, would you walk me home?" It was surprising that Neville didn't jump up and down right there. Ginny and Hermione winked at each other.

Hopping off the chair, Ginny announced "well, I think I'm off too. Thanks for inviting us out, Neville." Ginny gave her good friend a tight hug. It was easy to forget considering their personalities, Hermione thought, that he was a whole head taller than her. "Hermione, you coming home?"

Despite getting more practice than usual in the last six months, Hermione was terrible at lying to her friends. "Actually, I thought I'd do a bit of reading and I don't want to keep you up, so I'll stay here a bit." Ginny looked at her quizzically. Hermione tried to make her tone semi-serious when she added, "Just to get out of the house a bit, you know?" Ginny nodded almost solemnly. Hermione wasn't sure if she had convinced her, but it was good enough. "I'll be home later." She gave Ginny a big, half-sad smile to sell the lie and they hugged.

Hermione took out one of the many books in her charmed bag, hardly paying attention to its title. She watched all of her friends leave the bar and waited another five minutes, painfully watching the clock. Tom came over to ask if she wanted another drink and she barely heard him over the sound of her own brain, whirling and ticking.

* * *

It was probably the first time in his life Draco had wished he was a messy person. If he had had something to clean, or organize, he wouldn't have spent exactly 13 minutes sitting on an uncomfortable inn bed doing absolutely nothing except losing his mind.

Finally, Hermione jumped off of her stool, shoved the book in her bag and righted herself. As she walked up the stairs, she tried to remind herself that it was nonsense for her to be nervous. Standing in front of an unnecessarily large and oddly crooked door with an iron number 5 nailed to it, she licked her lips and took a deep breath. And knocked.

When a knock came from the door, Draco thought he might be imagining it, or that he had conjured the sound simply by thinking about it too hard. Then he feared it was an elf bringing him tea _oh merlin, had he ordered tea?_ It occurred to him that he had said his room number loudly in a room full of strangers and it was very possible that he had put himself in danger. _That's what you get for being bold, idiot._ Finally, Draco realized that he should most definitely answer it, no matter what was on the other side.

The door opened creakily. Standing in stark reality, Draco and Hermione stared at each other.

"Granger." It was almost a question.

"Malfoy." It was practically a whimper.

Then Hermione reached out a hand. Despite all reason, she was suddenly unsure that they weren't in a daydream. Perhaps a particularly vivid and tedious one. Her hand landed on his abdomen, flat and solid and warm and existing. Draco inhaled sharply and she felt it on her hand.

Draco's brain didn't seem to be working the way it usually did, _even in those damn dreams,_ but he was coming around to the fact that it wasn't fair that she was touching him and he was just standing here. He wanted to remedy this, but he had no idea where to put his hands. Everything seemed like a strange option (her shoulder?) or a wonderful option (the curve of her cheek?) or a too much too fast except how is that possible after all these months option.

Hermione was working purely on instinct, and that was not her forte. If only she had a book solely about him, and a little time in a library to understand exactly what the hell she should be doing. Instead, she took a step forward and he mirrored her movement, his eyes flashing with brief alarm at her decision. _Alarm, but not repulsion. Keep going._ She stepped all the way into the room, closing the loud door behind them. She briefly thought that the noise really ruined the tense silence they had going here. _Better talk then._

"You're living here." Immediately Hermione regretted that beginning. It came out as though they were having tea or she was his judgmental aunt.

"You're living with the Weasleys." He shrugged. It was far too long an explanation to say that they needed her more than her own happily ignorant family did.

"I...your parents." She began as if to apologize, but couldn't bring herself to do it. The strange trajectory of his place in her life was the only thing flashing in her mind. She shook her head and looked at the floor. "You didn't say anything."

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Hermione's mouth opened in response. They stood there for a solid minute.

Someone in boots clomped down the hall, struggled drunkenly with keys, and slammed their door. The sound released Hermione. After a sigh that could have filled a balloon in one go, she let her head drop to her chest for a second before looking up at him, and it was just like the first time in the bar all over again. Her voice was quiet but comfortable. "I think I kind of forgot that you were… real."

Anyone else would have heard Draco's huff as indignant, but she heard the relief and humility in it. "Not exactly who I was though, am I?"

Hermione almost looked at him with pity but fought against it. _Nothing would be worse for him than pity. Showing him pity would be like telling me to calm down._ That's when it dawned on her that she knew him, dream or reality. That made her smile, probably inappropriately.

Standing there, looking at her stupid, glowing, delicious smile, made Draco want to touch her everywhere, if only because it would make her smile more. Instead, he stayed where he was, useless. It was aggravating. Caught up in this thought, nearly forgetting her presence, he grunted loudly to release his frustration and yelled, "Why is this so difficult?!" She didn't even flinch.

Hermione giggled, then immediately showed her surprise at the reaction. "Of course, it's difficult!" He thought she sounded like she was in school again. That slightly shrill know-it-all voice that was never necessary in a dream. "There's too much history, sometimes I forget who we were at Hogwarts..." He wasn't sure she noticed that she was pacing as she spoke, and he leaned against the wall to watch her. "I don't even know what your life looks like, Malfoy, and you don't know mine..." He stifled a grin at her adorable lecturing. She looked like a professor. "…and we've been living in a dream world and the escape has been, I mean I don't know about you, but it's been the only completely happy thing in my life since…" He wasn't even listening anymore. She was getting warm as she continued. She peeled off her coat first, throwing it on the desk chair in the corner where it was quickly joined by the scarf that had been loosely draped over her. Draco gave up on hiding his smirk when she took off her outer robes. She was in muggle clothes underneath, predictably.

His voice was flat and humorous when he interrupted her. "Shut up, Granger."

She turned around and looked sharply at him, prepared to yell that she was simply trying to explain their situation. Instead she took in his trademark smirk and the way he was leaning his shoulders against the back wall and his flushed cheeks. "It's complicated." She said quietly, needing to summarize her thoughts succinctly. He nodded, too understanding.

Later, she would never admit that she ran those three three steps to reach him, but she did. As soon as she reached him his arms were uncrossed and in her hair and pulling her up to him. He had thought he had gotten used to kissing her, and maybe he had. But here in his room, in his arms, she felt different. It was like the Hermione he knew, multiplied. Like she had slipped him a potion or cast a spell and honestly, he wouldn't have cared if she had.

She had him fully pressed against the wall now, and she could have stayed here, leisurely wrapped around this boy who was finally, _finally_ , real and in front of her. She touched every available part of him to which she thought she had grown accustomed. He was almost brand new today, hotter and firmer and paler than in either of their imaginations.

Hermione always felt amazing when she was running her hands along his body, but it was usually an escape; there was always in the back of her head that clock counting down to the end of the spell and the return to the Burrow and the darkness there. There was no clock here, and no escape. Amazingly, that fact felt good.

Although…maybe that was just his hands. Because they were everywhere. Was he gentler in their daydreams? It didn't matter. She thought of the sparklers her family lit on New Year's, and how she used to hold her hand as closely as she could to them, feeling tiny specks of fire bounce across her hand, not enough to burn but so hot and fast that it was just shy of. That was how Draco's hands felt in her hair, on her arms, on her breasts and waist and hips and back and bum and thighs and she had to have more.

Their mouths were refusing to part, one of them coming back to grab the other's lips if they tried to pull away. Hermione was well aware that by now, Draco would have liked to have been kissing her shoulders, biting her earlobe, sucking on the sensitive spots around her neck. She would have liked that too. And she would have liked to be doing the same, but neither of them was willing to give up on this other feeling. This wet, sweet, sinking into another person feeling.

Draco's mouth was stronger. He pulled away with enough time to say "Granger, is this…?" before his determined lips made their journey around her jawline.

Hermione's breathing was way past heavy, and his current teeth tongue lips combination just below her ear wasn't helping. With focus and framed with moans, she answered him. "Different?"

He groaned, "more intense?" She almost didn't have time to feel the absence of his lips.

"Amazing." She concluded with a not-at-all-satisfied-yet sigh. Draco answered with a growl as he pulled his mouth away from her shoulder, where she had just felt his smile. People would never believe her if she told them how much Draco Malfoy smiled.

He pulled his shirt off and watched her eyes take him in all over again. Now that he knew what she felt like in reality he never wanted to settle for that damn spell again. _Don't say that you don't know what will happen_ he chided himself. But this was so much _more_. He had to be closer and feel her skin on his and memorize it _just in case_. So, he looked at her with an eyebrow cocked, encouraging her to follow his lead. Her sweater came off easily, and she was wearing only a bra underneath. His eyes popped open wide and it made her giggle. People would never believe him if he betrayed how often she giggled.

He kneeled in front of her and his hands and mouth were on her stomach, waist, and ribs before she had begun taking her trousers off, but she wasn't deterred. As he patiently tracked his mouth up towards her breasts, her nipples hardening at the mere thought of his hot tongue on them, his hands supported her as she peeled the pants off. She expected the moan that came when she ran her fingers through and gripped onto his hair, but she hadn't known his hair would be even softer and whiter than she had known it to be. She held tightly onto his him and relaxed- laughing, sighing, and moaning as he lowered her to the ground and his hardworking mouth and hands went everywhere.

Draco's lips were chapped and he needed water and really, really, really needed something else he had been thinking about since he had broken that glass downstairs, but here she was, still catching her breath, sprawled naked on the probably centuries-old wooden floor. If it wasn't crude he would have taken a photo from where he sat near her feet. He really couldn't decide if he was grateful for the six months that it was like this but not _like this_ or if he should steal a time turner, go back to May, and get those six months back and make sure it was _like this_ the whole time, every time, constantly.

"Malfoy?" She had propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. Her dark cheeks were still flushed and her curling mass of hair was absolutely unkempt. He realized she usually tamed it in their dreams, they both did. He liked her better like this, totally undone by him. _Earned arrogance._ He smirked.

"Malfoy." The repetition of his name got his attention. When she said, "I need you." in a deep voice that he liked to think only he had ever heard, his own need came back to his attention. When he ran his hands up her body and picked her up, it increased. He set her on the bed and Hermione laughed and looked up at him, biting her lower lip, and he thought he might just keel over. Instead, he pushed the hair out of her face and kissed her, grateful that the unstoppable blooming fireworks hadn't faded since the last time their lips had touched.

With the impossible knowledge of having done this dozens of times and never having done it before, he sunk himself into her and their sounds and skin and selves mingled. A few times, actually. And it was far, far better than any dream had ever been.

* * *

Hermione didn't go to the Burrow that night. Her body could barely bring itself to roll away from the equally exhausted man next to her, nevermind apparating anywhere. When she woke up next to Draco Malfoy, she tried to remember if they had ever done this part, the waking up together part, before. She had seen him sleeping before though, so she knew to steal a long look at the sleepy-little-boy-face the man who had been through so much wore.

Soon enough the dehydration set in. Then the hunger. Then the hell of an explanation she would have to have for Ginny, and therefore the need to get home. Hermione rolled out of bed, carefully pulling her pants and sweater on, putting everything else but her coat in her charmed bag and finding her wand. She looked at Draco. His sleeping body had quickly recovered the space she had been taking up in the bed. Only slightly afraid that she was crossing a strange line, she walked over and pulled his hair out of his face, kissing his forehead sweetly. His eyes opened, just barely.

"Go back to sleep." His eyes questioned her. "Tonight. 10. Downstairs. Okay?" He nodded and closed his eyes again. She kissed his lips and felt the soft pressure he returned. Hermione opened the creaky door, annoyed again at the loud sound.

She turned to close it and saw him half sitting up in the bed, quilts falling off of his bare chest, his eyes only half open. "Granger. Tonight." Hermione worried, however briefly, that he didn't want to see her tonight. That he had taken his fill of her in reality, maybe even in their dreams as well. "Real or Dream?"

Hermione's smile could break battle lines and house orphans and nurse grief. "Real."

* * *

 **That's it for this one. Pretty please let me know what you think!**


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